


Airports

by granite



Series: The Boss [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Enjolras is older, Grantaire is eighteen, Light BDSM, M/M, Older Enjolras, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, SO SORRY, Spanking, Virgin Grantaire, the boss au, there will be a plot later though, younger grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 03:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4084969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/granite/pseuds/granite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire meets him in an airport, of all places. He’s eighteen, already homesick, and clutching a one-way plane ticket to Tokyo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airports

Grantaire meets him in an airport, of all places. He’s eighteen, already homesick, and clutching a one-way plane ticket to Tokyo.

*

“I’m twenty-three,” Grantaire tells him.

“God, only twenty. Have you even done this before?” He asks, even as he’s trailing a finger down Grantaire’s chest. He doesn’t even know the man’s name.

“Of course I have.” He hasn’t, but he won’t say that. “Will you spank me?” He asks instead.

The only answer he gets is a growl. He’s pressed down into the mattress, his jeans and boxers are yanked to his knees by rough hands.

“You’re so pretty.” He caresses the soft skin between the swell of Grantaire’s cheeks and his thigh. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it. Please, please, do it.”

He brings a hand down hard against Grantaire’s ass and he sees stars.

“Good?” The man asks.

“Fuck—yes, yes good. Please hit me again.” He does, and Grantaire cries out loud enough that the man cringes.

“Quiet. You want everyone to know what I’m doing to you?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Please keep going.”

He sees the man’s hand rise before he feels his palm come down. Hard.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers.

The man starts beating him even harder and all he can do is rut against the mattress and listen to his breathing get harsher as the slaps get more aggressive.

“Yeah, fuck. Rut against the mattress. I want to see you come just like this.”

Grantaire whines and fuck, fuck he’s going to come from this. Getting beaten with his pants still wrapped around his thighs. The man shifts and Grantaire can feel his cock pressing against the back of his thigh. He moans, feeling his muscles tighten and heat settle in his stomach.

“I’m gonna’ come.”

“Come on. Come for me.”

He shoves his face in a pillow and obeys, comes harder than he ever has before. Instead of turning over he just lies there, legs slightly spread, ass red and bare, breathing heavily.

When he peeks over his shoulder, the man is looking at him like he wants to eat Grantaire alive. He tries to spread his legs a little more and raises his hips.

“Can I fuck you?” The man asks.

“God, yeah. Fuck me.”

When he doesn’t do anything Grantaire glances around again, looking at the way the man’s mouth is hanging open. He reaches back, spreading his ass a little, and the man takes a sharp breath.

“You’re gorgeous. So good, God, look at you. Spreading yourself open for me. You make me want to just fuck you. Push inside and watch you take it.”

“Do it. Just fucking fuck me. Split me open.”

“Hush, you enticing thing.”

He hears the man uncap a bottle and hisses when he feels the lube on him, dripping down his thighs. He eases a finger in and Grantaire closes his eyes.

“You’re so tight. You’re going to feel so incredible.”

Another finger slides in beside the next, he moans, gets lost in the feeling of being fingered so thoroughly. He’s given a third before the man pulls them out. Grantaire whines and watches the man roll on a condom and slick himself up before returning, pressing against him, his legs on each side of Grantaire’s thighs and his cock pressing against his hole.

Grantaire’s breath hitches as the man sinks into him, slowly, so slow. It takes forever for him to push all the way but when he does it feels so good. He clenches around the man’s cock to keep him from going anywhere and moans.

“Fuck me,” He begs. “Please.”

He thrusts only once, shallowly, and Grantaire groans, trying to lift his hips and fuck himself on the man but he puts a hand on Grantaire’s lower back and keeps him down.

“Beg me for it.”

“Oh God, oh God please, please fuck me. You feel so good, I need it. I need you, I—” 

He cries out as the man snaps his hip forward, once, then twice, and then keeps fucking into him hard and deep and all Grantaire can do is take it because his legs are still trapped in his pants and there’s a hand pressing him into the mattress and the man angles his hips just right and he almost screams, comes explosively against the sheets for the second time.

Grantaire clenches his ass while he comes and then keeps it tightened while the man fucks into him, fast and desperate.

“Fuck,” he grunts, pulls his cock from Grantaire’s ass and tears the condom off, coming in streaks across his lower back.

He all but manages not to collapse on top of Grantaire, but he finds a shirt from the floor and wipes the come off Grantaire before lying next to him.

Grantaire kicks his pants off and rolls over to lie on his back, trying to ignore the come stain on the sheets.

“You should stay.” The man says. “We have hours until the flight.”

“Okay.”

They’re silent long enough that Grantaire thinks the man’s fallen asleep.

“What’s your name?” He whispers, right as Grantaire is on the edge of sleep.

“Grantaire. You?” He mumbles.

“Enjolras.”

“Enjolras,” he repeats, dreamy, testing the name in his mouth once before falling asleep.

*

When he wakes up, Enjolras is gone, and so is his plane ticket. On the bedside table is an enormous snack of cash and a note.

Grantaire—

I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I stole your ticket. I think you’re scared and you’re running away and it’s a mistake. I was young once—I know that look in your eye, like your world is ending and you’d rather be anywhere than where you are. It’s a mistake. I left you enough money for another ticket, to go anywhere or to go to Tokyo, if I’m wrong about you. If I am, I’m sorry, come to Tokyo. Come find me.

But I don’t think I’m wrong, and I don’t think Tokyo is where you’re really heading. Don’t run away, and don’t give up.

—Enjolras.


End file.
